


break the silence

by SpookMouse (carinacove)



Series: compound fractures [1]
Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Hanna is guilt-ridden, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Worth is... Worth, Zombie is oblivious, not actually slash I guess really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carinacove/pseuds/SpookMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanna accidentally gets Conrad injured, which, to be fair, is at least better than getting him killed (again).</p>
            </blockquote>





	break the silence

Everything happens so quickly, he doesn't even have a chance to think how to react; it's just a blur of movement, a thump-crash-yell of noise leaving him momentarily frozen. Fortunately, for once, Hanna's default tactics of jump-first-think-second work to their advantage, and he's already moving before Conrad hits the ground.

This particular mess can't even be blamed on Hanna's generally reckless approach to danger. They hadn't actually gone out expecting a troll, after all. All the building manager had said- a bit vaguely, he's realizing now- was that there had been some mysterious thumping noises and strange smells coming from the basement, so it had seemed harmless enough, at the time, to ask Conrad along.

"You can see in the dark, right?" Hanna had said, eager as ever and practically dragging Conrad out of his apartment and into the night. "When you go all bat and stuff! I mean, yeah, Abraham has those flashlight eyes and all but he can't really see with them like you can. So this way if it's something that's gonna hide if we put on a light, you'll be able to spot it and then we'll know what it is and _then_ I'll know what to do with it! Y'know, hopefully."

Conrad hadn't exactly seemed reassured by this (possibly partly because Hanna didn't even seem to hear his protests of "I don't exactly have a handle on the whole... bat thing yet," or "I actually had some work I was doing?" or "You could've at least _called_ me first") but, in the end, he had followed them willingly enough. Sort of.

The building looked old, but nice; the entrance and hallway were clean and well-lit and seemed almost cheerful. The stairs leading into the basement, on the other hand...

Hanna had been the one to venture forth first, of course. "I bet it's not even that bad," he'd said, and stepped down into the darkness.

It had taken a minute, the three of them huddled close together on the dark, dank stairs, for Conrad to manage popping himself into bat form, and then it took another minute for him to give up on flap-flailing around and collapse onto Hanna's shoulder instead. He'd muttered an "I hate this," but sat up a little to peer around anyway. "Um, there might be something in the corner there, maybe."

He'd sounded doubtful, but they'd moved closer to where he pointed anyway, and he'd got airborne after another try. "Yeah, there's definitely something-" he'd started to say, and that was when the troll stood up.

One of Hanna's books had a description of trolls; it didn't really do the size of them justice. The thing is huge- eight feet tall and nearly as broad, with oversized limbs that'd look funny if they weren't, well, sort of horrifying. He looks at it now and thinks that it's very possible that they're in over their heads. As usual.

As the troll stands, Conrad screeches in alarm, trying to flail away- but somehow the troll is _fast_ , and one enormous arm swings towards him, sending him flying towards the wall with another screech that turns to a human yell as he smacks into the brick.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Conrad's saying, ducking as the troll's hand smashes into the wall beside him, trying to dodge away- failing, crying out as one massive fist slams into his arm.

It happens fast, so fast, but Hanna's already moving: he runs at the troll, scribbling a rune onto his palm as he goes.

The flame flaring up from Hanna's hand makes the troll reel back, roaring, all of its attention diverted to keeping as far from the fire as possible. "Daniel!" Hanna calls, but he doesn't need telling; he's already crouching at Conrad's side, helping him to his feet, grabbing the back of Hanna's shirt to yank him towards the door. "Wait, we can't just-"

"We can come back later," he says firmly, not relaxing his grip even a little bit. They hadn't come in expecting a fucking _troll_ , and there is no way in hell he's letting Hanna stick around to try to deal with the thing now. Judging by the way Hanna scrambles up the stairs, he probably isn't really inclined to argue anyway.

As soon as they're out of the basement- back in the jarringly bright, quiet foyer- Hanna slams the door behind them, and sets to work drawing protective runes all around the frame. Beside him, Conrad is whimpering, right arm clutched to his chest, eyes glazed behind his glasses. His legs probably won't support him much longer. "Can you change again?" he asks, and Conrad looks up at him blankly. "So that we can carry you," he says; Conrad doesn't seem to hear him for a long moment, but eventually he nods.

It takes less work, this time, for Conrad to switch forms. Maybe he's getting the hang of it. It seems to exhaust him, though, or maybe that's just from the pain- one wing is crumpled in a way that looks... bad. He holds Conrad carefully against his chest, and waits for Hanna to finish the binding spells he's weaving.

Hanna's uncharacteristically quiet on the way to Worth's, shooting cringing, guilt-filled glances at the huddled ball of Conrad in his hands every few steps. 

He should probably feel guilty himself, for feeling glad that- for once- it isn't Hanna that he's carrying, broken and whimpering, to Worth's office. He should. But he doesn't.

Worth's in, of course. He always seems to be. And- again, of course- he's immediately unsympathetic at the sight of Conrad in his hands. "I ain't a goddamn vet," he says, and then Conrad tries to sit up, whimpers and falls back again, and Worth stops. "Back room," he says after a moment, and turns away.

"You're harder t' fix like this," Worth tells Conrad once he's been set on the exam table. "Make yerself useful n change back. Hanna, go find some paper, I'm gonna need some things. Dead Bloke..." Worth pauses, looks him over. "Stand there n look broody." He turns back to Conrad, who shifts forms abruptly, nearly falling off the table in the process. "Now ain't it nice when people do what I tell 'em to. C'mon, Hanna, yer holdin' us up."

From the way Conrad's moaning to himself, the changing back and forth isn't doing his arm any good. Worth ignores him, though, and waves away the papers when Hanna comes back with them. "Those're for you. I'm gonna need..." He pokes experimentally at Conrad's arm, making him wince and whine. "Two numbing an' a guiding. An' while you're doin' it you can go ahead n tell me what the fuck you were thinkin' dragging him into your stupid shit in the first place."

There's real vehemence in Worth's voice at this last, which kind of surprises him. Maybe Worth just likes to yell at people. "I didn't know it was going to be a _troll_ ," Hanna snaps back, but it's half-hearted, and he focuses more than strictly necessary on drawing the runes. "I wouldn't have brought him if I'd known. I wouldn't've even gone myself," he adds, which is probably an outright lie. Worth seems to know it, too, from the way he rolls his eyes.

He doesn't argue the point, though; just takes the first of the runes and presses it to Conrad's upper arm to transfer and activate it, doing the same with the next two. After a moment of working in silence- dragging his fingertips down the full length of Conrad's arm in strange, twisting patterns- he says, "Next time you get it into your head to run off like a moron, bring the werewolf instead. At least she ain't completely fuckin' useless."

"Ugh," Conrad says, sounding half-slurred and distant but slightly more like himself again. "Fuck off, Worth."

"Busy, princess." He moves on to Conrad's hand- tracing over the bones, it looks like. "You went n shattered like the delicate fuckin' china you are. Can't even heal this shit- all I can do is line it back up. Serves you right for followin' him anyway, y'ask me."

Conrad mutters an "I didn't," but it's fairly weak. Hanna fidgets beside him, turns away from them when Conrad cries out sharply. " _Fuck_ ," Conrad says after a moment, somehow managing to sound out of breath; Hanna leans into him, burrowing into his coat a little, looking like he'd like to cover his ears to block out his guilt. Which he doubts is helped much by Conrad's low, worried, "Is this- will I- I mean, I _need_ my hands, I make my _living_ with them, so I-"

Worth grunts at him in annoyance. "Hold the fuck still, this's hard enough without you wrigglin' around like a goddamn landed fish." Worth isn't helping things much either, he supposes, except in the physical sense. Which isn't really the sense that matters to him personally right now, with Hanna still pressed to his side, mouth set in a thin, unhappy line. "You'll be fine, stop cryin' about it," Worth says eventually. "It ain't even your drawin' hand anyway." Conrad's shoulders seem to untense, a little, and he feels Hanna's do the same.

After another few minutes of silence, Conrad slumps over a little, ending up with his forehead pressed to Worth's shoulder. It looks deliberate, so far as he can tell; Conrad must still be hurting, or maybe tired. Worth's hand comes up, touches the back of his neck, fingers briefly ruffling the hair at the nape. He's a little surprised Conrad doesn't complain about it. Actually, if anything, he seems to lean in closer. Maybe he just doesn't feel like protesting over so brief a touch; the next second, Worth's stepping away anyway.

"Right," he says, "that's as much as I can do for now. Gonna need blood- fresh stuff, n plenty. S'pose I'll call Lamont, cos I know you're still too much of a fuckin' pansy-ass to go out n bite someone."

Before Conrad can argue- he's already glaring, gearing up- Hanna says "Thanks, Doc," and Conrad's mouth snaps shut. He adds his own somewhat surly "Thanks," after a moment, and Worth smirks at him.

It's kind of comforting to be shoved out of Worth's office. It's so normal, it's hard to imagine anything particularly dire is happening when Worth is still being so entirely himself.

"Fuck off," Worth tells them, almost cheerfully; "He'll be fine, he's just complainin'," and "No more haulin' him along for your stupid-ass adventures," and (obviously knowing it's pointless) "No more _stupid-ass adventures_. I mean it, Hanna, cut it the fuck out already."

Hanna just smiles at him. "I'll bring you some runes tomorrow or something. Thanks again," he says, and they head out, the door clicking shut on Worth's grumbling behind them.

The walk home is quiet again. Conrad might be okay, but he can tell that Hanna's still feeling guilty, his misery almost palpable. It makes him worry. He doesn't want Hanna doing dangerous things, but he can't help but dislike seeing him so discouraged.

"I'm glad it wasn't you," he says suddenly. He hadn't really planned on admitting to that. That sort of snuck up on him; he's not sure why.

Hanna shoots him a sideways look, mostly surprised and maybe amused, maybe something else too. "Don't let Worth hear you say that," he says, and he doesn't sound like he's kidding.

He gives this a moment of consideration before answering. Worth had been a bit harsh, but... "I don't think he likes seeing you hurt, either." It hasn't been all that long, really, since the theater, Worth's flippant way of asking him to look after Hanna, the exasperation underneath his casual tone. The affection, even further underneath. He'll readily admit he's not the best at reading people, but he hasn't got any doubts when it comes to Worth's feelings towards Hanna.

But it seems like Hanna's not quite as sure. "Heh. He doesn't, but," Hanna shrugs, "I'm pretty sure Conrad getting hurt instead is like his least favorite possible alternative. He probably _would_ rather be fixing me instead."

That doesn't sound likely to him at all. Worth doesn't even seem to particularly like Conrad, mostly- not that he seems to like anyone much, but Hanna at least brings out some sort of protective instinct.

Though he'd been pretty protective of Conrad tonight, too. He wonders if maybe he's missing something.

Regardless: " _I'd_ rather it be him and not you," he says decisively, and Hanna grins up at him.

"Yeah? Well." Hanna's cheeks are faintly pink, he notices. It's cute. "That's pretty cool. I mean you don't seem to have a whole lot of selfish impulses so that makes me feel pretty, y'know, special and junk." It's offhand, teasing, but he thinks maybe there's an undercurrent of real pleasure in there, too. Maybe he's getting better at reading people. 

He reaches out, tangles their fingers together, and Hanna's cheeks get pinker, but he doesn't pull away.

There's still a troll to be dealt with at some point, he supposes, and Conrad might be mad at them for a while, but for now... It's actually a pretty nice night, and Hanna's hand is warm in his, whole and unbroken and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Muse's New Born, just because I, uh, like the song and needed a title. Inspiration came from the ever-fabulous Cacodaemonia. this has been slightly edited since the last time I posted it, but only slightly, so if you spot anything problematic please let me know!


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